


Ashes, Ashes, Dust to Dust

by lordtakemefromthis



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, dream team smp
Genre: Everyone else is dead, Fire, Hurt No Comfort, No shipping, The Death of Manburg, Traitor Tubbo Au, traitor Tubbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 08:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27467650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordtakemefromthis/pseuds/lordtakemefromthis
Summary: It flickers.The flames before him wave and dance, a deepening pain growing in his eyes as he continues to stare. Unblinking. The fire flickers, and the last of Tommy’s home dies.-The final death of L'Manburg at Tubbo's hands. Rated for language and descriptions of violence inflicted on others.Heavily based on an incredible animatic by Rosentin Moon, linked in the notes.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 76





	Ashes, Ashes, Dust to Dust

**Author's Note:**

> [Click here to see Rosentin Moon's animatic, you won't regret it!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7kw6RhDKiQY)

It flickers. 

The flames before him wave and dance, a deepening pain growing in his eyes as he continues to stare. Unblinking. The fire flickers, and the last of Tommy’s home dies. 

Dry, cracked lips part, broken cries tumbling from them in the vague shape of his friend’s names. Wilbur, Techno, Big Q, Niki… The only response is that taunting crackle of the monster consuming everything in its path.

Tommy has always hated fire. The burn scars that mark his body, from matches held for too long and from singed blades sinking into his flesh in the throes of war. The vicious pink-red that lashes across his best friend’s chest and arms, even weeks after what Techno had done to him. Those scars will never heal, and Tommy will never tell him, but they’re so terribly ugly.

“Tubbo?!” 

He’s beginning to lose hope. His knees are beginning to buckle beneath himself, and his shaking fingers lower from where they’d cupped around his mouth. The acrid taste of smoke and ash lingers on his tongue, a deep, uncomfortable burn lacing down his throat and into his lungs. That’s when he hears it.

“You all right, big guy?”

Tommy turns so fast that he nearly loses balance, spots dancing across his vision. When the darkness clears, he sees his best friend, sitting at the edge of the woods that lined what was once his nation. The tapered edges of his burn scars peek out from the collar of his green button-down, with one button done in a spot too far up, just as he always is. Tommy doesn’t realize he’s moving until he feels himself collide with his friend. He throws his arms around Tubbo, squeezing as hard as he can simply to assure himself that his friend is here. Sure enough, he’s here, real and very much alive. A pair of hands pat him on the back as they usually do during their admittedly rare hugs. The comfort of the embrace begins to fade, and Tommy pulls back as his worry rises once more. 

“Where is everyone?” he asks. While he’s still scared, seeing Tubbo has eased his mind. If Tubbo had known and had escaped the explosion, then the others will have, too. “Since you’re here… the rest are bound to…” 

The words flicker and die on Tommy’s ash-laden tongue. 

Tubbo is smiling at him.

Over their years of camaraderie, Tubbo’s smile has often been a point of comfort for Tommy. In dire situations, when Tommy would scream his frustrations into cold walls, Tubbo’s optimism would help him. A hand on his shoulder would pull him back to the ground, and Tommy would turn to see Tubbo smiling. A soft, warm sort of smile, and Tommy could always see the concern in it. They would talk. Most of the time it would just be Tommy shouting and Tubbo listening, but that’s what Tommy needed. For someone to _listen,_ for once. 

But now? Tommy swears that even with the heat of the flames at his back, his blood turns to ice in his veins.

“Where are they?” Tommy’s voice takes on desperation, and his hands find their way to Tubbo’s shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric. “Tubbo, _where are they?_ ”

“They’re dead.” Tubbo says it as if they’ve just gone out for a walk. He looks up at Tommy, who is stood on his knees now. The smile is gone, given way to Tubbo’s signature silent, curious gaze.

“What?” It’s all Tommy can do to choke that single word out. His voice cracks, shatters in his throat.

“I said, they’re dead.” And the smile comes back. This time, Tommy is sure he visibly shivers. It’s simply so _wrong._ “In the fire.”

“You--” Tommy slowly stands up, looking over his shoulder. The flames roar, towering higher than ever. He turns back to his friend, who looks unbothered as ever. “Tubbo, you’re joking, right? This is one of your dumb pranks, right? _Right?_ ” The blank stare is what snaps his patience. “This isn’t the time to joke! Don’t fucking ignore me, _answer me!_ ”

“Tommy…”

Tubbo stands up slowly.

“Are you dense?” He _laughs._ Tubbo laughs, a small chuckle, with a movement of his shoulders and his hand hovering near his face. “Does this look like a prank? I’m not Skeppy.” A moment passes, and Tubbo sees that Tommy isn’t answering. He steps forward. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

The air is thick as it makes its way, sharp and painful, into Tommy’s lungs. He sucks in a sharp breath, another, and begins to feel lightheaded.

“What?” The word is slow and heavy.

“Don’t you remember what I said?” For a moment, Tubbo looks saddened. “When we talked about running away from here, leaving everyone behind. We have everything we care about, don’t we?” 

From his pocket, Tubbo pulls out three discs. Tommy’s music discs.

“Why don’t we just go now? I say we turn tail and never look back.”

Tommy takes another step back, and Tubbo steps forward. He tucks the discs back into his pocket before taking Tommy by the shoulder and leading him away from the fire a few paces. The look on his face… it’s as if Tommy had just tripped, or stubbed his toe, not nearly backed into the fire in which his friends’ bodies lie. Lifeless, burning to ashes, all due to the only person he thought he could trust.

“You’re the traitor.” It’s pathetic, how late Tommy had come to the conclusion. It feels like his brain has been submerged in honey. Perhaps rotted honey.

“I guess I am, aren’t I?” Tubbo has the audacity to look sheepish as he says that, that smile still on his face. 

The fire in Tommy’s lungs has spread to the rest of his chest, accumulating right in the center, in his heart. It hurts. It hurts, especially as he utters the word:

“ _Why?_ ”

That laugh comes again. Tommy would say that it’s hollow, a shell of what Tubbo used to be, but it’s… it’s exactly as it always was. That’s what scares him the most.

“You really are dense.” Tubbo’s hand is still on his shoulder, and it’s joined by the other on his opposite shoulder. As Tommy sees the slow movement, he notices dark smudges on Tubbo’s palms before they press into the fabric of his shirt. His stomach turns. “Wilbur’s completely mad, Schlatt is senile and arrogant; they were gonna destroy both Manburg and Pogtopia. This was inevitable, Tommy. You know as well as I. This was the only way to end it all.”

Before Tubbo has even finished his sentence, Tommy is tearing himself away from his grasp.

“ _No,_ Tubbo!” Pain laces through Tommy’s throat, raw and red as he shouts. “There was another way! We could have figured something out!” His vision blurs, and Tommy feels hot tears rolling down his face. He tastes the salt at the corner of his mouth. “This isn’t the way to end the war!”

“What good is it if we both die fighting, Tommy?!” Tubbo’s smile is gone as he steps forward again, jabbing a finger at Tommy, his own volume matching his friend’s. “Schlatt _and_ Wilbur wanted us dead! _All_ of us!”

They stare at each other, and Tubbo puts his hands back on Tommy’s shoulders, close to the base of his neck. It’s nowhere near a chokehold, but Tommy feels like he’s running short on air. It could be the smoke.

“Tommy, don’t you remember what you said?” A deep, desperate sadness is gouged deep into Tubbo’s face. It’s the first time Tommy has seen it so raw, right at the surface, not covered by optimism or what he now realizes to be deception. “Stick together. Right?”

Damp sky blue eyes stare up at him, blurred into vague shapes by the tears that won’t stop falling.

Bile burns at Tommy's throat, and as he stares at what was once his best friend, something inside him shrivels and dies.

The flames behind him grow and roar.

It flickers.

**Author's Note:**

> Give it up for an uninspired title and an overuse of italics. Title is a lyric from [Curses by The Crane Wives.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Gopg80VXwc)  
> If you dare ship any of these _real life minors,_ I will fucking destroy you.  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
